It was a regular Tuesday at the university library. The kind of quiet day where nothing stands out. I was sitting at one of the tables, trying to focus on my textbooks. The usual hum of students studying in the background. But for some reason, I couldn't focus. The words on the pages weren't making sense. I flipped through the chapters for history, but nothing stuck.
Then, I noticed something.
There was a book on a shelf that caught my attention. It wasn't on the regular shelf, but hidden behind other older books. It looked out of place, sitting there as if it didn't belong. I wasn't sure why I noticed it, but something pulled me toward it. I stood up and walked over to where it was tucked away, pulling it from the shelf.
The book was old. The leather cover was cracked, and the pages looked like they'd been through a lot. It didn't have a title on the spine, and that made it even more intriguing. It looked like something that belonged in a museum, not a library.
I opened it. The first page was full of strange, unreadable symbols. It didn't look like anything I had ever seen before. Not even close to any language I recognized.
I was about to close it when something strange happened. The symbols started shifting, like the book was changing the text right before my eyes. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, but the words didn't stop. The characters on the page rearranged themselves, and suddenly, I could read them.
The words weren't in any language I'd ever learned, but I understood them perfectly. It didn't make sense, but there it was.
"A child born of two worlds, the sorcerer's heir, shall awaken the darkness and lead the final battle. The fate of the immortal realms lies in her hands."
I could feel my heart beating faster. The words felt important, like I had just read something I wasn't supposed to know.
I flipped through the pages, but everything was just more of the same—cryptic, strange writing. As I continued to turn the pages, it felt like I was getting further into something I should have stayed away from.
Just as I was starting to feel uneasy, I heard footsteps behind me. They were slow and deliberate, like someone walking with purpose. I turned around.
He was standing there.
He wasn't a student, not by a long shot. He was tall—over six feet. His appearance was sharp, almost too perfect. He had dark, intense eyes that seemed to glow. I couldn't explain why, but they were unnerving.
The man stared at me, like he was waiting for me to say something. But I couldn't speak. There was something about him that made it hard to breathe.
"Put the book down," he said, his voice calm, but there was something dangerous in it.
I hesitated for a second. "Why?" I asked, not knowing why I was even questioning him.
He stepped closer. "It's not meant for you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer right away. He just stared at me, his gaze flicking to the book and then back at me. I felt like he was sizing me up, deciding whether or not I was worth the effort.
"You don't need to know," he said.
I felt a chill run through me. The way he spoke made it clear that this wasn't just about a book. It was about something bigger, something I wasn't prepared for.
I stood there, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to walk away and pretend nothing happened. But another part of me couldn't shake the feeling that this man knew exactly what I had read—and that it was too late to turn back.
Then he spoke again. "Your reading it doesn't change anything. But it will make things worse for you."
I glanced at the book in my hands, the words from the pages flashing in my mind. "What's in it? What does it mean?"
He shook his head slowly. "You don't want to know."
His presence seemed to fill the room, the air around him thick and heavy. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like he was the only thing that mattered right now.
Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. There wasn't even a sound, nothing to signal his departure. I blinked, trying to adjust to what had just happened.
The library around me was still. I could hear the soft chatter of students in the distance, the quiet rustling of pages, but there was nothing else. No sign of the man.
I looked down at the book, then back at the empty space where he had stood. It felt like I had missed something important. Like I had been thrown into something I couldn't control.
But the book was still in my hands.
And now, I couldn't ignore it. Something told me this wasn't over. The man's words echoed in my head: "It's too late."